


a week, spread thin

by snailbutch



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Hanging Out, Other, Some Emotional Hurt/Comfort, bittersweet because of what comes next, the promise of dancing, the warmth of community, those sorts of things, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailbutch/pseuds/snailbutch
Summary: Broun notices that Valence does not always stand at their full height, Valence notices that Broun is not always forthcoming with their true intentions. There is a race, a feast, a breakdown, the promise of a dance, and a whole universe waiting.
Relationships: Kal'mera Broun/Valence
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	a week, spread thin

**Author's Note:**

> A Secret Samol present for Art @woodlanduncle on twitter! Some bittersweet Balence quality time! One of my favorite relationship tarot spreads uses 7 cards, so I used those to map out a week of small moments between Broun and Valence on Millennium Break. Maybe weeks aren’t 7 days anymore on Partizan but, listen, isn’t my personal agenda more important? Anyway! you can find the spread & explanation at the end of the fic! (Thank you to the Neon Moon Tarot Deck for your beautiful art & vibes!)

i. Broun notices that Valence does not always stand at their full height. Sure, they’re not especially tall, at least not when compared to Thisbe. But Valence is so often stooping to listen– offering a hand on a shoulder, or a crossed-arm hunch and a thoughtful nod– that they seem to be smaller than they are. It clicks for Broun one day when Valence stands up in front of Millennium Break and they seem… Well, intimidating isn’t the right word. _Powerful_. They look like a leader more than anyone else on the ship, no matter how hard Clem postures. 

That evening, Broun watches them, their chin resting on their hand as Valence makes themself smaller when people approach them. After most of the ship has turned in for the night, Valence walks out onto the deck and looks up to the sky. Broun follows them and hangs back for a moment. They watch as Valence stretches and straightens their spine, body obscured by robes but still clearly long and sturdy in build. Broun approaches them after a moment of watching. They are leaning on a railing, and an ear flicks back toward Broun before they turn and make eye contact.

“Broun. Good evening.”

“Did you know that you slouch?”

Valence’s head tilts and they self-consciously adjust their posture, rolling their shoulders. Broun laughs.

“I actually don’t know if slouching is the right word. You just… Accommodate.”

“In what way?”

Broun grumbles a little bit, they didn’t expect to have to explain themself. “Well, sometimes you kinda…” They attempt to mirror the stance Valence takes when talking to people. They cross one arm over their midsection, their other hand going to rest over their mouth in a contemplative gesture. They nod a bit, throwing in some thoughtful murmurs. Valence tilts their head.

“Really?” They look down at themself, standing comfortably at their full height. “I don’t see it.”  
Broun lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling their eyes slightly, “Well, not around _me._ ”

Valence’s ears twitch in a way that Broun has come to recognize as a sort of blush, a tell that they are slightly out of control of their emotions. Broun walks a little closer to them. 

“You also don’t do it when you’re in front of a crowd.” 

“Now you’re talking like my campaign manager,” Valence chuckles a bit, pleased with their own joke. Broun chooses to ignore it.

“I’m _just_ saying. You could probably take up a bit more space,” Valence doesn’t seem to know what to do with their hands anymore, so Broun steps forward into their arms. They relax just slightly, returning to reasonably familiar territory. Their hands are on the small of Broun’s back. Broun gives Valence a couple gentle slaps to their mask, affectionate, teasing. “If you start standing all weird and getting self conscious, I’m never gonna tell you anything again.”

“It’s a deal,” Valence chuckles, retracting their arms from around Broun and taking their hand to lead them inside, out of the chill. They walk back to their rooms, talking quietly. Valence doesn’t crumple, even when some revolutionaries approach them with a request for extra rations. They stay tall and steady as they talk, not folding into a smaller version of themself. They shake hands, exchange goodbyes, and then walk away with Broun. Valence shoots them a look.

“How was that, boss?”

“You’re a natural,” Broun grumbles, grudgingly pleased with themself and with Valence. 

The next day, Broun is feeling idle and a little annoyed until they see Valence with their shoulders back, looking relaxed and commanding. Looking like a leader. Thisbe notes that Broun doesn’t stop smiling.

ii. Valence notices that Broun is not always forthcoming with their true intentions. This is, perhaps, an obvious truth about them. One cannot expect a smuggler to be perfectly upfront at all times. But the thing Valence notices is that Broun isn’t just cagey about big things. _I should be in my room all day, knock if you need me._ Valence watches as they head out to the hangar to work on their mech. _Could I get an extra roll? Millie asked me to bring her one._ Valence sees them eat both rolls themself. They don’t even sit near Millie that night. _Could you bring me an extra screwdriver? Mine got all fucked up._ The screwdriver sits, unused, in Broun’s room for weeks.

Maybe it’s a habit, maybe they just like to keep everyone else on their toes, maybe they’re forgetful or distractible or absentminded. Valence doesn’t think Broun is the careless type. No, Broun presents a very interesting puzzle. One that Valence would feel honored to solve. They are caught off guard one day when they find Broun exactly where they told Valence they would be. 

“Broun? BROUN?” Valence calls out in the mech bay, not expecting an answer. But then, there is Broun. 

“Geez, Valence, I’m right here. No need to yell.” 

“Oh! I didn’t…” They trail off. Broun wipes off their face a bit with a rag they have hanging over their shoulder. They are a little sweaty and disheveled, but they have a brightness in their eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of their mouth.

“So… What’s up?” 

“Oh! Oh, yes, uh…” Valence feels a little foolish. They had expected a wild goose chase around the ship. Why did they..? Oh, yes, right, alright. “Would you mind doing a maintenance check on the ship with me? Walk around, make sure everything looks in ship shape–” Broun _groans_ and Valence shakes their head a bit. “Sorry! Sorry, unintentional.”

“ _Sure_ it was unintentional,” They squint at Valence and Valence, slightly flustered, continues to shake their head in denial. “I’ll come along, but I have a strict ‘no puns’ policy. Intentional or otherwise.” 

“Can do. Easy.” 

The two of them drift around the ship, Broun’s toolkit banging against their thigh as they walk. Every so often they stop and Broun unscrews a panel and fiddles with some wires while Valence watches and thinks about Broun’s hands, confident, careful, helping put Valence back together after the Palace mission. During one of Broun’s checks, they turn a bit and catch Valence staring. 

“What?”

“I’m just watching,” Valence shrugs a little bit, trying not to let on that they’re feeling flustered. “And I was thinking.”

“What about?” Broun has turned back to their work. It’s slightly easier to talk this way, Valence feels less pierced by their eyes, the sharp curve of their mouth.

“I didn’t expect you to be in the mech bay earlier.” Valence’s hands are together, fingers interlocked to stop them from fidgeting.

“Why not? That’s where I told you I’d be.” Broun turns again when Valence laughs, a question in their crinkled forehead.

“Are you kidding? I’ve seen you tell someone where you’ll be and head the opposite direction.” 

“Well, those are just… Some _people_ . I tell _you_ where I’m actually gonna be.”

Valence is slightly taken aback, and deeply, intensely, flattered. “Well… I appreciate it.” Their ears flick, dizzy with a strange kind of praise. It seems to be Broun’s forté, surprising Valence. “I always thought it was a little fishy, the way you talk to other people.” 

There is a brief moment of quiet, before Broun hurtles to their feet, hollering, “Was that a _fucking pun_???”

Valence’s laugh is heard throughout the ship.

iii. “Tell Broun I’m sorry I can’t make our…” They almost say ‘date’ but manage to stop themself. “I can’t make the race. Thank you, Thisbe.” Thisbe gives them a nod and heads out of the room, where Valence is hunched and looking over stolen charters with some of Leap’s pirates. They try to nod at appropriate times and offer insight, but the truth is that they don’t really need to be here. The pirates either know what they’re doing or Leap has taught them well how to fake competence. Either way, their updates are going in one ear and out the other, and the only thing on Valence’s mind is… Well, Broun. 

They’d promised Broun, without thinking, that they’d watch a mech race with them. Some of the revolutionaries on Millennium Break were getting bored, restless, the endless meetings and politicking keeping them stationary. So, some folks got together and planned a mech race, an obstacle course; something to get the adrenaline junkies their fix and provide some much needed entertainment. Broun was excited when they came to Valence, holding a hand drawn flier, and firmly telling Valence that they should go together, c’mon, it’ll be something _new!_

But the types of crowds that Valence likes are congregations. Sure, sometimes the energy is just as high. A collective belief, the kind of excitement that crackles in the air. But at the end of the day, there are handshakes and kind murmurs and polite nods instead of spilled sodas and jeers and rude gestures. They aren’t interested in going to this race, and with this meeting, they have an out. 

Until the pirates are looking at Valence without saying anything.  
“What?” Valence returns their looks, head tilted to the side. 

“We were just asking if you had any questions.”

“Oh, no, no. It looks like Leap and you all have everything under control.”

“Alright, then we’ll go.”  
Valence didn’t expect this. The pirates are packing up their papers, chatting happily together, and they are being left without an alibi. They can probably stay in their office, pretend to do paperwork, avoid being seen. Avoid Broun. 

That… Doesn’t feel so good. Valence sighs, frustrated, ashamed. They shouldn’t flake on Broun just because they don’t _feel_ like watching a mech race. They should at least talk to them. And that’s what they’re on the way to do, reaching for the handle of their office, when Broun comes in and collides with them.

“Valence!” They are flushed, their face tense. They take a step back from Valence, staring them down. “So you _aren’t_ busy.” 

“No, I–”

“Thisbe said you were busy.”

“Broun.”  
“What?” They snap, clearly a little hurt.

“I was just coming to find you. Let’s go to the race.”

Broun opens their mouth with a retort but it dies on their lips. Clearly they were expecting more resistance. Valence wants to explain themself, offer excuses or reassurances, but they feel like it isn’t necessary. All of the tension has left the room and it feels like they have a chance to start again. Valence offers their elbow to Broun, and with a small smile Broun links their arm with Valence’s. 

All in all, the race is better than Valence expected. Seeing the way Broun bounces up and down on the balls of their feet when a mech pulls off a sharp turn or manages to overtake the lead is worth the noise and the sticky feeling under Valence’s feet. It may not be Valence’s choice of activity, but there’s something to be said for the Broun-watching opportunity. Maybe they’ll have to do this more often.

iv. Tonight, it is a feast. There was a nice haul from the pirates, lots of perishable foods that need to be eaten quickly. Valence and Broun are not cooks, not by most definitions at least, so they are helping prepare the cafeteria. Most nights, revolutionaries filter in around mealtimes, sit, chat, laugh, play cards, and leave. The cafeteria is hardly ever at capacity. Tonight, though, the feast is drawing attention and a couple folks have offered to play some music and it starts to sound like a real event. Valence is wiping down tables while Broun sets out folding chairs. They do their work quietly. They have things to say to each other, but it can wait until they are seated and eating and surrounded by friends. There is something warm and special in the air, anticipation and the smell of onion and cloves.

When the stew is done and the cafeteria is full with a swell of revolutionaries, Broun and Valence sit back to back. They enjoy the subtle closeness without feeling distant from their other friends. Valence is turned toward Gur, Broun toward Millie. 

“It’s just _ridiculous_ , it’s a completely unreasonable interpretation!” Gur is gesticulating, one hand resting on Valence’s arm, their other hands moving in a flurry of indignation. Valence nods and offers their opinions here and there, but mostly they are thinking about the warmth of the evening. Broun is warm against their back, the bowl of stew is warm and steaming, leaving some droplets of moisture on Valence’s mask. They feel the warmth down to their core, down to the very smallest parts of themself.

Broun is also thinking about warmth. The cafeteria is _hot_ , packed with bodies eating warm food. They are sweating but they don’t want to move away from Valence. Millie is regaling them with a story from their time in prison, one of Clem’s numerous mistakes, and the two of them are laughing uproariously. Millie, through laughter, chokes out “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so confident, yet so _bad_ at flying a mech.” 

_Sounds like fun_. 

Broun’s head almost turns toward Valence, but they stop and keep most of their attention on Millie.

 _Oh, she’s a great storyteller._ Broun responds, still getting used to the telepathic connection that they share with Valence, but feeling giddy that they opened the link.

They continue chatting with their respective conversation partners, occasionally quipping to each other silently. Broun finds themself getting distracted by Gur’s passion, his opinions sharp and considered. They are not a religious person, but something in the way they talk is intoxicating. They could make a good con artist, Broun thinks. Similarly, Valence’s mind wanders to Millie. She is charismatic and energetic and she has a bitterness that isn’t grating. She is refreshing, a hidden gem among the people Valence hasn’t spent much time around. 

As the night winds down and Gur excuses himself to their room, Valence stands and goes to chat with some other folks. The band has stopped playing, but they are hanging around and Valence brings them some stew as thanks. From where they are seated, they have a view of Broun, dazzling in the dim light of the cafeteria. Their eyes are crinkled in a smile. Leap has joined them and Millie, and the two of them one-up each other with stories, their tales reaching new heights of kinetic energy. Broun glances over Millie’s shoulder at one point and their eyes lock on Valence. Valence’s ear twitches in acknowledgement.

 _We have great friends._ They think, happiness bubbling in their throat as they turn their attention back to the band.

 _We have the best friends, right?_ Broun thinks back, and Valence swears they can almost hear Broun laugh with delight right in their head. They are the last two to turn in for bed that night.

v. Broun is angry. 

There are multiple factors that have contributed to their anger, but the biggest one is this: people are horrible. People are hateful and mean and they would absolutely be better off _miles_ away from this place. Obligation be damned, friends be damned, Valence… 

Well, they can’t quite bring themself to cast off Valence, but the point still stands. They hesitate to leave the ship entirely, but even Valence might not be a strong enough tether. They are thinking about running away late at night after a long and hard day, when it feels easiest to cut everyone off and launch themself into space and never look back. They fall asleep still angry and restless. They wake up in a rotten mood, maybe worse than when they went to sleep. 

They sit alone in the cafeteria. It is early. Not many people are around, which is good because they can feel themself itching to pick a fight. Instead, they return their attention to their food, trying to shut out the rest of the world and hoping that they don’t look as terrible as they feel.

Valence is in meetings all day. Busy, busy, busy. Broun figures they should try and keep themself busy too, so they head to their mech. There’s always more work to be done there, always something to tinker with. When they get there, though, some of the pirates are working on their own mechs. They are loud and rowdy, jeering and laughing together. It might be slightly irritating on a good day, or even a little funny on a great day. Broun is not having a good day, and they’re certainly not having a great day. They groan in exasperation before they head back to their room, frustrated tears pushing at the corners of their eyes.

It is evening when Valence knocks at Broun’s door. They expect to hear their voice calling them in, but instead the door opens slightly. Broun has already turned their back to them when Valence steps into their room.

“Broun. How are you?” They watch Broun flop down on their bed, back to Valence. That works as an answer. “Well, don’t take it out on me, I didn’t do anything.” 

Broun grumbles and Valence lets out a soft sigh. 

“Are you feeling down?”

And with that simple question, Broun’s defences shatter. They begin to shake, the tears finally escaping. Valence is a little surprised, but they put a gentle hand on Broun’s arm. 

“Broun, I’m here. Take what you need from me.”

Broun turns over and grips Valence’s robes, Valence’s arms going to circle around them. 

“I’m just so… So _angry_ . It’s been a shit couple of days.” They sob, pulling Valence closer to them. Valence doesn’t say that anger is born out of fear or sadness or some other, harder-to-deal-with emotion. Instead, they squeeze Broun tight. A physical reassurance, _I am here, I’ve got you_. 

When Broun calms down a bit, they take a moment to rant through their tears. They’re sick of people like Clementine acting like they know best, sick of people that expect things to change overnight, sick of hearing snarky comments and bitterness from people who won’t even do the work and _help_. Valence lets them talk until they are out of things to say. They nod and commiserate and most of all they listen. When Broun is done, they flop back down on their bed, completely exhausted and completely undone. Valence lies next to them, opens their arms for them. Broun rests their head on Valence’s chest, letting out a massive sigh.

 _Thank you_. 

_Broun, of course. Anything._

_Oh, stop, you’re gonna make me blush._ But they already are blushing. _I cried at you about my day. Tell me about yours, I bet it’s boring and bureaucratic._

Valence laughs and tells Broun about their day. It is exactly as boring and bureaucratic as they expected, but there’s something comforting in that. Eventually, they turn out the light. 

_Stay_. Broun gently presses a kiss to Valence’s mask. They stay.

Broun falls asleep in Valence’s arms. Waking up feels easier than it has for weeks.

vi. Neither of them are used to physical contact. They’ve both acclimated to professional situations: Valence making decisions and being a guide, Broun making sales and, on occasion, deciding when to _mis_ guide. Sometimes there might be a pat on the back, a handshake, either of them might place a gentle hand on someone’s elbow to lead them into another room. Sure, they’re comfortable with each other at this point, but PDA is a whole different monster. So, Broun flushes a little when Valence sits down next to them in the cafeteria and they are pressed against each other, shoulder to hip to ankle. Broun catches the slight twitch of Valence’s ear, but they look perfectly stoic. Valence would be blushing, if they had the facilities. Broun can tell. 

_Well,_ hello _._

_Hello Broun._

Broun stifles a shit eating grin as other members of Millennium Break shuffle in and take their seats and begin to eat. 

_You’re sitting awfully close._

_I can move._ Valence begins to shift before Broun puts a hand on their thigh under the table.

 _Don’t._ Broun feels giddy, being this close to Valence is nicer than they’d like to admit. It has been quite some time since someone has stayed with them. For a while it’s been one night stands or short flings. Sometimes it’s hard to date when you’re a smuggler. 

Valence tries to suppress a pleased shiver that creeps up their body from Broun’s hand on their thigh. They mostly succeed, they think. They haven’t been this close with someone, close in _this_ way, since they left their home with the Nobel. They didn’t realize how much they missed it, feeling this… prized. Like they are something worth holding, worth holding gently.

Broun does, eventually, retract their hand from its resting place on Valence’s thigh, realizing that it’s not practical to eat with one hand. Still, neither of them move away, their sides pressed together throughout the meal. It feels like a dream, and neither of them are particularly keen on snapping out of it. But, eventually, Valence is called away to their duties. They sigh as they get up. Before they head on their way, they gently bump their mask into Broun’s head. While the gesture seems small, inconsequential, the intention behind it is a kiss. Broun knows this. Their heart stalls in their chest. Valence walks away, shooting a look over their shoulder. Broun _swears_ that look would be a wink. 

_Did you just_ wink _at me?_

Valence isn’t looking at them, but Broun sees them chuckle.

For the rest of the day, the two of them ride the high of casual touch. It feels like a luxury, like something neither of them could afford before now. They find themselves counting down the hours to the next meal. Valence is distracted in their meetings. Broun almost burns themself with a welding torch. They are wrapped up in each other, in the gravity of one another’s touch.

At dinner they sit just as close, the simple gesture still has a shine of something new. The band, the one that formed at the feast, have started playing during most dinners. As Valence and Broun finish their meal, Valence stands up. For a moment, Broun is indignant. Why not just stay and savor the contact? But then Valence holds out their hand.

“Wanna dance?” They seem perfectly confident, but suddenly Broun feels shy enough for the both of them.

“Do you even know how to dance?”

“Not at all!” Valence laughs, their ears twitching in a blush. 

“Well, why–”

“I don’t know! We can figure it out together!”

For a beat Broun looks skeptical, and Valence is sure that they’re about to grab them and force them to sit back down. The music feels like a physical presence, a warm invite, an open palm. Broun takes Valence’s hand.

vii. Their interests don’t quite overlap. Broun is a fan of getting their hands dirty, the tactile pleasures of mech maintenance. Smudges of oil pepper their skin, bandages wrap most of their fingers, covering little nicks and scrapes. Valence is a fan of thought problems, they love big ideas and debate and thorny theological arguments. They’re a good mech pilot, sure, but they like thinking their way out of tough spots. They are less interested in the mess. Broun loves a mess.

Maybe someone, looking at Broun and Valence, would consider them an odd pair. But something about them fits. 

It fits in the way that Valence sits in the cockpit of the Three Cheers! and read a book while Broun tinkers with the steering. Occasionally, Valence will read them a passage. Maybe Broun will ask them to repeat the passage, but on the second go they always make sure to listen. They’ll talk about the book, though Broun often feels ill equipped to face literary criticism. Still, Valence is always so visibly pleased to hear their thoughts that eventually they get over their reservations and start offering opinions as soon as Valence has stopped reading. 

Occasionally, Broun will ask Valence to pass them a wrench. Maybe they will need to tap Valence on the knee or wave to get their attention, but they always scramble to get the tool Broun needs. Valence always asks what Broun is doing. Most of Broun’s technical talk goes right over their head, but they find their voice so soothing that it doesn’t really matter. Valence is happy to nod and ask about some piece of jargon and sometimes fully admit that they’re confused. Broun is secretly pleased to get to explain. 

On one of these days, the long and lazy days in the hangar, Valence gets a sudden and overwhelming wave of desire. They want to leave. Not… Not really. They like their life on Millennium Break and they’re good at what they do. But they do want _something_ more. They wish they could take Broun home. _Home_ home, to the Nobel. They wish they could travel with Broun. They wish that they could have a guaranteed spot on Broun’s spaceship.

All of these thoughts are suddenly immense and nagging, pulling on Valence’s nerves. Broun is humming slightly and walking around and around the Three Cheers!, examining the plating. Valence can’t help themself. 

“Take me somewhere.”

The request comes out of nowhere. Broun had thought Valence was engrossed in their book, but when they look over, their book is closed and they are looking right at Broun. 

“Where? What… What?”

“I want to go somewhere with you. Get off the ship, just for a second.”

“Just… Wherever?” Broun is looking at Valence a little strangely, not sure where this is coming from. Valence tilts their head, it reads as a soft smile.

“Wherever with you, yes,” Valence confirms. Broun feels themself begin to blush so they clamber into the cockpit. 

“We can just kinda… Drive around. See what there is to see,” Giddiness, again, wells up in them. Valence takes their hand for a moment and squeezes it.

“Sounds like a date.”

Both of them blush.

As the Three Cheers! takes off, Broun and Valence look around at the sky, at Icebreaker Prime, at how small all of it seems. The thing that seems biggest, heaviest, is each other, the enormity of the things they want to do together. In that moment, the whole universe seems to offer itself up to the two of them, and in that moment they decide to accept the offer.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 - Broun’s wants - king of wands - big picture, leader, overcoming challenges

2 - Valence’s wants - the lovers - partnership, union, duality, choice

3 - differences - knight of wands - action, adventure, fearlessness

4 - similarities - three of cups - friendship, community, happiness

5 - emotional compatibility - six of pentacles - charity, generosity, sharing 

6 - physical compatibility - seven of cups - choices, fantasy, illusion

7 - mental compatibility - page of pentacles - dreams, desire, new opportunity


End file.
